Hello, Charming
by AmbiTheWicked
Summary: Once upon a time, a certain skank found himself lost and balancing on the edge with nothing left. One day, that boy met another boy who seemed to always be glued into a leather jacket. Let's just say...Things changed, and not every fairytale has a happy ending, though. Badboy!Blaine/Skank!Kurt
1. Prologue

**AN/: Woop woop. Following chapters are going to be longer, I swear. I just needed somewhere to start this story off. I obviously do not own Glee or any of the characters being used. All rights go to Ryan Murphy. ty friends, enjoy. I'll most likely upload the next chapter either next week or the week after.  
><strong>

There I was, visibly shaking with my back up against a wall as a shorter man's figure bared down on me. I felt frozen, and I was pretty sure my the tips of my fingers had gone numb about five minutes ago. It was funny in a way, because as I was listening to my soon-to-be ex-boyfriend go on and on about how I was "unfaithful" and "uncaring", part of me wanted to deny everything he was saying and start screaming at him.

But, then there was that other part of me, the part that kept reminding me that everything that came out of Blaine's mouth was the truth. You know, there was something about seeming so vulnerable right now that really put me off. The feeling was terrible. Remember getting scolded in elementary, those times when your teacher would call you out and raise her voice at you, when you were so innocent to actually give a damn?

That is exactly how I feel right now. I could only think of one word as I stared straight into Blaine's eyes, trying (and failing) to show assertiveness, and that was 'How?'. How did things get like this

And then another thought crowded my mind, 'It was always this way, don't bother lying to yourself.' I...-well, my self conscious- was right. But, this time, I had a feeling this was it for us. We were burning out quickly and there was no way I could say or _do_ anything to save us this time. There were no more lies for me to tell, to hold us together for just a bit longer.

* * *

><p>How all of this started is a pretty long story. One I'm willing to tell, though. My name's Kurt Hummel. I go to the prison we call William McKinley high, and I'm a senior there. I'm also a skank. I wasn't always a skank, though, so cut me some slack.<p>

I used to be this innocent porcelain-faced, baby doll that everyone loved to step over. Thankfully, that's not who I am anymore- Not even close. Same face, but more piercings and eyeliner, and we can't forget the purple streak running across the coiffed part of my hair. You're probably wondering how this all happened.

Well, I'm not about to share all of that information with a complete stranger. I will tell you this though. Bullying, Crushes, and Complete ignorance. I guess you might use the words "Troubled" or "Damaged" when describing me, and you'd be right. But, some people like to get creative with their nicknames for me, like "slut", and a popular one used to be "faggot".Whatever. In my eyes, it's better to be a nobody than a target. Anyways, onto the fucking story of how my fairytale life began.

Once upon a time...


	2. Watch it, Princess

**AN/: Eeeeee I'm sorry if it isn't too good. I haven't written fanfiction in like 2 years wow yughyg.  
>I was originally going to introduce Blaine in the next chapter but hey, the more the merrier. <strong>**Once again, thank you for reading. wuw  
>I don't own Glee, or any of the characters used. All rights go to Ryan Murphy.<strong>

The day was Monday, the week day that always started off either the smooth or disastrous next four days of your life that would be wasted inside of a building that shaped children's minds to fit the school district's exceptional standard. In the skank's view, everybody was going to die someday anyway. The real question that should have been all over the chalkboards was 'Would you rather die having known the polyhedron formula or knowing that you lived life exactly how you wanted to?'

According to every single one of his instructors, that attitude wouldn't be earning him a college degree. The thing was that he just couldn't find the energy inside of him to give a shit. At least he didn't spend his days standing in front of a classroom full of misbehaving idiots, babbling on about useless lessons because he couldn't achieve his true career goal in life.

Kurt stood outside of the school with his back pressed up against the poorly painted drywall, one black earphone inside his left ear and the other draped off of his shoulder so that he would be able to hear somebody's attempt at making conversation with him, or worse, the bell signalling homeroom. Both of the young senior's eyes were closed, which should have already given off the impression that he wasn't in any mood to be bothered. His music was blaring loudly- No, 'loudly' was an understatement.

Anybody even a few feet close to him would have been able to share the boy's obscene music with him. He was often lectured about how he could ruin his hearing by having the "satanic music" blasting inside of his ears, and most of the time he would reply with a simple "Fine with me".

Deep in thought was when he felt the presence of somebody next to him. Still, he didn't bother exposing his bright eyes to the sunlight which beamed down onto his eyelids, allowing them the red-ish color that bothered the hell out of the skank.

Kurt waited for a minute, though it seemed like a year, and that's when realized that the body wasn't going to be leaving any time soon. He let out a small, somewhat irritated sigh. "What do you want this time, Quinn?" After asking the question he lazily opened his eyes, squinting at the sun's gleam before he raised his hand and used it as a shield from the blinding rays.

The girl only found him in the morning's when something was going down, and usually, it had to do with Kurt. After last time she visited him before homeroom and gave him the heads up about a new rumor about him (which spread like wildfire), he stopped enjoying her early morning visits. Not at all to his surprise, it really was the one and only, Quinn Fabray leaning on the wall beside him. Her shoulder was pressed against the wall and she had this smug smirk coating her features.

_There really wasn't much to tell when it came to the girl. If you asked her what happened to her for her to become such a cold-hearted skank who looked like a 90's pop child gone wrong, she'd tell you to fuck off. It didn't matter much. Most people who attended McKinley knew her story. The girl- one of Kurt's only true friends left- got knocked up junior year, got kicked out of her own house and gave the baby away. _

_Quinn had told friends who asked that she wasn't in any state to support a child of her own, but it was obvious that the baby also held some memories that that blond would hope to some day forget. Kurt couldn't blame her. Being one of the few people who saw the fight that broke out between Quinn and Puck after the news got out, Kurt wouldn't have wanted to keep that baby either._

_"_Oh, believe me, Hummel. It's not what _I_want. It's what _you're going_ to want" A small, devious chuckle escaped the ex-cheerleader's lips as she held a cigarette in between her two rosy lips, lighting it just as Kurt began to speak.

"Already told you I'm not into that, Q" Kurt shot back with a calm yet teasing voice, stealing the cigarette from between the fellow skank's lips with a smirk. Quinn scowled as she watched her friend, rolling her eyes. "No, not that, asshole The new kid."

Kurt pressed the toxic stick to his lips and inhaled the smoke, pausing a moment before tilting his head a bit to the side and exhaling. He watched how the smoke twirled in the air near him, spreading far out before disappearing. He glanced over at his friend with content expression. The news about a new kid arriving hadn't gotten to Kurt yet, Then again, skanks were usually some of the lasts to know whenever gossip surfaced in the school .

"Why should I care?" Kurt passed the lung-cancer-causing stick back to Quinn and leaned off of the wall. They got a ton of new kids each and every year. What was the point in huddling up into a corner and swapping information on the guy who was stupid enough to attend their shithole of a school? But-As much as Kurt hated to admit it, he was a bit interested in what his friend had to say.

"Dalton Academy ring a bell?" Quinn took a drag of her cigarette and, much to his displeasure, blew the smoke right into Kurt's face without warning. He had heard of Dalton Academy plenty of times. Most of those times, it was people telling the skank just where he would end up someday. Dalton was a reform school. He mumbled a "Yeah" in reply to the question and looked over at the parking lot, just in time to see Noah Puckerman pulling up.

"Kid came straight from there. If you're still looking for a reason to care, then you'll find it when you look at this guy's ass." Apparently Kurt's gaze had caught her attention because all of a sudden her eyes narrowed and she was saying her goodbyes.

"Well, that's my cue. Have fun with your new toy, Hummel" And with that, she stalked off. Probably back to the skank's hangout under the bleachers, but Kurt could never know for sure. The boy's eyes were directed back towards the jock who was now walking towards the school, wearing his same old Letterman jacket as per usual.

_Noah Puckerman. Now, this guy's story wasn't all too interesting. What was interesting, though, was the relationship he and Kurt had built. Hm. Relationship was such an overused word. A better term for what they had would be fuckbuddies. It all started about a few months ago on Kurt's journey to become popular. In hindsight, Puckerman shouldn't have been the first person Kurt went to to achieve popularity. That day was the day that the former-fashionista had slowly begun turning into a soulless body...That day, Kurt Hummel had sex with Noah Puckerman, and it was completely consensual. _

_Look, just because it was consensual didn't make it pleasurable. It hurt like hell and wasn't at all what Kurt had expected his first time to be like. Whatever. After that day, Kurt stopped being slushied, tossing into dumpsters, and shoved into lockers. In his own opinion, it was all worth it, even if he got treated as if he was some whore after that. Don't worry. Everything worked out along the way. All the skank did was play the role of the person he was thought to be, and things worked out just fine. Slowly, the boy grew number and number._

That signature smirk was back on Kurt's pink lips by the time Puck had gotten close to the school. "Would you look at who actually decided to show up today" He chuckled when the jock rolled his eyes, giving Kurt one of his deathly looks. Kurt, clearly unfazed, leaned back against the wall once again.

"What are you, my mom?" Puck deadpanned, Kurt licked over his bottom lip as the boy took a step closer to him. And then another one. Before he knew it, the taller teen was holding his waist, their faces barely an inch apart.

"Please, if I had a son like you, you would have been disowned by now" Kurt snorted. Their relationship was pretty fucked up. But, that's what made it so great. It had it's downs, yeah, but under the sheets, the downsides were pretty hard to see.

In a second, Puck's lips were crashing against his own and the hands at his waist were pressing him roughly against the wall. Kurt returned the kiss with just as much roughness and energy, tilting his head to the right. Puck's thumbs were practically burying themselves into his sides, and it hurt like fucking hell. Knowing announcing his pain would only get him ignored, Kurt kept quiet about it.

Puck moved down from Kurt's lips, hovering over his porcelain skin before making a connection with the side of his neck. The jock sucked the piece of flesh into his mouth and licked over the area before releasing the boy entirely. That was the exact moment that the bell rang. "Shit" Puck muttered "Later, Babe." And that was it. Right after the words left his mouth he was gone.

Kurt stood there for a moment, taking in a deep breath. He reminded himself exactly where he was and how long he would have to suffer inside of the school building. Was reminding himself of his surroundings such a weird thing to do? He found himself doing it often, and sometimes it scared him to know that he needed his own reassurance to get through such easy situations.

Instead of ditching homeroom altogether and spending the forty five minutes of the period underneath the bleachers with Quinn, Kurt walked inside of the school building. His eyes darted around at the people rushing to get to class. Some kids just hang out at their lockers, seemingly carefree. Kurt slipped his thumbs into the pockets of his skin tight jeans as he made his way to homeroom, his bag swung and hanging low over his shoulder.

Even though Kurt tried his best to convince himself that he was most certainly _not_ keeping an eye out for the new kid as he walked on past all of the people he detested, he knew he was lying to himself. The boy kept his eye out for any unfamiliar face he might pass. But, by the time he was had reached his homeroom, he had seen nobody.

_'Maybe Q's just fucking with me again.'_ He thought to himself. It was no skin off of his back, though. He hadn't cared much in the first place.

And that was when it hit him. No- _Literally._

In that very moment, right when Kurt's hand was a second away from grabbing the doorknob and opening the door to his homeroom-

_**BAM. **_

The door swung open and hit him square in the face. All he could feel in the moment was an insane stinging sensation over his face. The skank stumbled back a bit before coming to a complete halt, his eyes wide with disbelief and his right hand covering his face. His eyes were squeezed shut tightly, but he soon opened them. He wasn't about to miss out on the opportunity to start yelling at whoever had hit him ."What the_ fu-"_ He stopped dead in his tracks. Most likely seeming like a deer caught in someone's headlights, Kurt was frozen.

There he was. Clad in a corny black leather jacket and biker boots. It was the boy Quinn had been talking about. It had to be. What other idiot would wear a leather jacket besides one from a reform school? The shorter boy must have been thinking the same thing as Kurt, because as the skank's eyes trailed over the teen's body, they met up the boy's eyes roaming down _his_ own body. The new kid was the one to break the silence "Watch where you're going, hot stuff." The teen scoffed, throwing his hands into his jacket pockets.

"How charming" Kurt spoke with sarcasm oozing from his tone, quickly reclaiming his usual calm and collected self. "Did you miss the part where _you_ hit _my _fucking face with a door, because I sure as hell didn't." He adjusted the single strap of his bag on his shoulder, his fists balling at his sides when he was finished. A million thoughts were invading his mind at that moment, clearly unable to decide what emotion he should settle on.

'_Is he gay?', 'Who the hell does he think he is?'. 'If he thinks he's taking over role of "Bad ass" in this school, I'll fucking scream'._

The new student shrugged and let out a puff of breath through his nose which substituted for a laugh. "Not my fault that you were standing right in front of it, babe." He smirked, his head moving to the side just a bit as he spoke. The teen's entire body language said "I don't care" and it pissed the skank off to no end. At the same time, it was a bit of a turn on. The glasz eyed boy pursed his lips, and before he could bite back with a sarcastic comment, the boy was walking off towards the main office.

Kurt's eyes trailed down the boy's body as he walked away, stopping once they reached his lower back. And Quinn was right.

Kurt had just found a reason to care slightly more about this boy's existence.


	3. French isn't just a language

**AN:/ I really need to stop uploading daily, wow. Okok. New chapters get released from 1-14 days from now on. I'm so lame, gosh. **

**My friend, Zaina, helped edit it and correct a few things, so ty zaina ily bb 3  
>All rights belong to Ryan Murphy!<strong>

Surprisingly, Kurt didn't end up going to homeroom, or even half of his periods, that day. Instead of walking into the classroom that lead to his homeroom, the boy walked straight to the skank's hangout under the bleachers on the freshly cut field, calm on the outside yet agitated on the inside. He was pretty good at hiding his feelings when he needed to. Those years of training really had paid of. That was one thing he actually had to thank his tormentors for.

Kurt looked at the underside of the bleachers from the outside. The way everything changed from bright and sunny on the outside, narrowing down to a single triangular spot on the inside of the bleachers, to dark and smoggy- They had all of the cigarettes to blame for that one- was...Well, it felt just like home.

He ran his hand along the side of the bleacher, ducking slightly as he walked underneath the bleacher. If only people knew just how many dreams the skank had had about the bleacher somehow collapsing while he was still under it.

"And here I was, thinking you might actually go to class today" Turning his head toward the sofa, Kurt caught sight of Quinn. One of her legs was crossed over the other as she lolled back onto the torn up sofa they had found at the side of the road and brought to the school. "Look, I even lit a damn congratulatory smoke for you"

She held the cigarette up in the air, a wide smirk clear on her face. Kurt had to resist the temptation to snatch the cancerous trap out of her hands and put it out, but he wasn't a monster, so he didn't. Kurt dragged himself over to the sofa and threw himself onto the last available seat at the end, right beside his friend's feet. He swore he saw some dust flying out of the sofa the second he sat down, but he didn't think much of it.

"Oh, fuck off. I bet you can't even remember the last time you went to class" He let out a low groan and sunk back into his seat, his head tilted up just a bit so that he was staring at the ceiling- Well, bottom of the bleachers. "And just so you know, I was going to class. I came closer than you ever have" He narrowed his eyes and extended his hand towards Quinn,

sticking only two of his fingers out, parting them slightly. "Yeah?" She asked. He didn't even have to look over at her to know that one of her eyebrows was raised. Most likely the one with the piercing. She always did that- Mainly to show off. "And what happened?"

Just after the question was asked, Quinn stuck a freshly lit cigarette between the two fingers Kurt was holding out. The boy made a strange hand gesture with his occupied hand as he rolled his eyes. "Got hit by a fucking door, that's what" He mumbled grumpily, pressing the cigarette to his lips and taking a deep breath right before Quinn started cracking up.

"Laugh it up" Kurt mumbled under his breath, closing his eyes as the girl next to him nearly choked on her own laughter. Even when one of Quinn's feet kicking his thigh, he kept his eyes closed. "That's fucking beautiful" She gasped for air, covering her mouth with the hand that wasn't occupied with her cigarette.

Once Quinn had actually calmed down, she was sitting up, her signature smirk accessorizing her face, as always. "Did you kick the living shit out of them or what?" She asked. Sometimes Quinn really was one sadistic person. Guess after all the pain she endured, she expected everybody else to feel the same as she once did- And probably still did.

Kurt slowly shook his head and reopened his eyes, running a hand through his coiffed, highlighted hair before looking over at his friend. "It was that damn Dalton kid." He tapped off the ash from his cigarette into the ash tray on the small table in front of the two. He wasn't looking at the fellow skank, but he was sure that her face showed nothing but astonishment.

And he was absolutely right. But what happened next, he really was not expecting.- No, he didn't get hit with another door. What happened was much worse.

"Well, you know what they say" Suddenly her look of pure shock was replaced with a devilish grin. One that he did not like. "Love is an open door" She snorted at her own joke. But, all Kurt could do was shake his head. Even if his friend was kidding, he couldn't stand it. "I thought we had a rule that forbade any of us from saying the "L" word" He pointed out,.

"Lung cancer?" She deadpanned, rolling her eyes at how touchy Kurt was being about a simple word. "What happened to living rule-free, Hummel? But, you know, I'm just saying. In those bullshit fairy tales, "The 'L' word" always comes when the prissy little bitch is least expecting it" She shrugged, leaning back onto the arm of the sofa.

"Take a look around you, Q. We don't live in a fairy tale. If we do then I want my fucking money back" Kurt allowed his cigarette to fall to the ground, stomping on the fiery-orange tip with the heel of his boot.

"I'll drink to that" Quinn replied shortly , nudging Kurt with her foot before lying back down.

About ten minutes after lunch ended, Kurt threw Quinn's legs off of him, earning him a glare from his friend. "Fuck it, I'm gonna go to French" He sighed and used his hands to lift himself up from the seating. He looked over at Quinn, and if he knew her better he would have thought she was sleeping from the position she was in with her eyes closed.

The female skank had always looked at peace in Kurt's eyes. That was, when she wasn't grimacing at all of her surroundings. He couldn't blame the girl, though. Life just sucked.

"Mhm." Quinn hummed and opened her eyes for just a moment before a smirk began tugging at her lips. She closed her. The brightness of the room hardly made a difference whether someone's eyes were opened or shut. Kurt ignored Quinn and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets as he sauntered off.

The moment Kurt was ducked under the bleachers, about to exit the premises, Quinn opened her big mouth, yet spoke in a relaxed manner. "Say 'hi' to Loverboy for me, would'ya?"

Kurt could hear Quinn chuckling to herself as he continued walking away towards the back entrance of the school.

* * *

><p>There was no doubt in the skank's mind that he was already late. But, he was usually late to his classes anyway. The first six times Kurt was late to class, he received warnings.<p>

He figured that his teachers had learned that nothing could prevent his lateness, because one by one they stopped asking him just where he had been, and why he was late. All he got now was "Just take your seat, Kurt" or a mumbled "Better late than never".

Kurt took a right. His footsteps echoed throughout the empty hallways and in some strange way, it made him feel superior. He already knew that he was dirt under everybody's shoes at this point in his high school life, but it was just nice to pretend sometimes.

This is what happens when you hit rock bottom. You're pretty much stuck their the rest of your fucking life for making one mistake in life. This is why high school sucks. Just one dumbass action has the power to label you for the remainder of you high school years. Whether the label was "Teacher's pet", "Goody-two-shoes", "Bad ass", "Fucking loser", or- Hold the applause- "Whore".

Looking up at the classroom door, Kurt brought himself back to reality and out of the torturous thoughts of his own mind. If there was one thing he hated, it was being left alone with himself. He entered the classroom with an expressionless face, his bag dangling off of his shoulder

"So glad you could join us today" His French teacher, Mr. Monroe, announced with a pathetic amount of sarcasm. The skank didn't bother acknowledging his mentor's words. "Please, take a seat so I may continue my lesson."

He turned around and began walking to his usual seat at the back of the classroom, coming to a halt after taking a mere four steps. Right there, occupying his seat, was the kid from Dalton. Not wanting to cause a scene, Kurt simply clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth and took the seat beside the boy.

"Looks like you survived being hit with a door, after all, babe"

Kurt narrowed his eyes toward the boy whose name he still had yet to discover, raising a brow at the word's spoken. The boy didn't seem to care enough to look Kurt's way. Instead, he faced forward, leaned back on the back legs of his seat.

"Oh, fuck off." Kurt mumbled, leaning forward in his seat and resting his cheek into the palm of his hand. He turned to face the board, and that's when he noticed Blaine turning his head slightly to face him, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "I think the correct words you're looking for are: "Fuck me" He pressed his chair forward so that all of the pegs were on the ground.

Kurt couldn't help his own smirk from forming at the boy's words. "Tell me your name and I might just not need correcting next time" Alright. Maybe Kurt didn't have to be Blaine's enemy. They were both smoking hot, and soaked in the definition of "Bad ass". That had to equal friendship somehow.

For a moment, Blaine actually thought of giving Kurt a fake name to fuck with him. He didn't, though. They did attendance call every morning in homeroom, which meant Kurt would have just found out the next day.

"Anderson."

Two could play at that game.

"Hummel"

Kurt looked over at the boy clad in leather. He was just so corny, it almost physically hurt. The kid looked like something that had just come out of a 50's Greaser film.

"Fine. Guess you'll need to know what name to scream later, huh? Name's Blaine, and I guess yours isn't "babe", is it?"

Blaine raised a brow at Kurt, that same devilish smirk plastered on his face. It was admittedly attractive. The skank's gaze traveled from Blaine's face to his chest, then to the hand he had rested on the side of his chair, fingers slipped under the bottom.

When he looked back up at Blaine's face, he noticed the boy's eyes were focused on another part of his own body. One in the southern region. Just like earlier. When Blaine looked back up, his smirk only grew, and for those five seconds they were making perfect eye contact.

"With that lip piercing, you can call me whatever you want" He snorted "But my name's Kurt."

"This would be the part where you gave me your number, wouldn't it?"

_And that's where it all began.  
>Sounds magical, doesn't it? <em>  
>Yeah, well, it gets much worse.<p> 


	4. Past and Present

**AN:/** **Such a late update, but I had no inspiration to write until SOMEBODY told me I should write more. Shout out to Zaina for helping edit and switch the entire chapter to 3****rd**** person after I wrote it in 1****st**** person like an idiot. All rights go to Ryan Murphy! Pls enjoy.**

* * *

><p><em>When I say that was just the beginning, I mean it. That was how I met Blaine Anderson. That was where it all started. Do I regret telling him my name and letting him into my life? You fucking bet I do. All he did was ask question after that. "Did you take that stick out of your ass yet?", "Why'd you walk in and out of that bathroom with that dick?", "Why do you always sit alone?", "Why are you such a bitch sometimes?", and my favorite "How'd you even become a skank". I swore I would never tell anybody as long as I lived. Quinn was the only person that knew exactly why I became a skank, and that's how I had always intended it to stay. I could still remember that day, too, and it made me fucking miserable. It still gave me that terrible ache when I thought too much about it. It was just an average day for me…<em>

* * *

><p>Kurt strutted through the hallways at McKinley high school, his brown leather satchel clapping against the side of his leg every time he stepped forward. He could see Rachel rummaging through her locker- which was covered nearly top to bottom with glittery gold stars- most likely searching for something useless.<p>

Rachel Berry was an overly-ambitious drama queen, and possibly the most annoying specimen to ever be born on planet Earth with the worst fashion sense, but they were close friends.

The brunette began walking over to the abnormal-nosed girl with a bit of pep in his step, his smile growing as Rachel looked up from her locker. Their eyes met for just a moment before he was thrown up against a metal locker, pain surging through his entire body as his shoulder made impact with the cold metal. His shoulder ached terribly from the pressure against his already-existing bruises.

Within a matter of seconds, the diva had fallen to the ground. He caught his breath in enough time to hear some jock shout "Watch it, fag" in his direction. No witnesses around him bothered to help. How typical.

Rachel immediately rushed towards the glasz-eyed boy. He slowly straightened himself up with the unnecessary help of the nasally girl as she began howling her devastation out. "Kurt, are you alright?! How can they just get away with that?!" She screeched, clearly fuming about the situation. Kurt sighed as he smoothed out his designer shirt with the palms of his hands, "They get away with it every day, Rachel. They got away with it today, and they'll get away with it tomorrow," he answered bluntly as he adjusted the strap of his satchel, and continued through the hallways.

Of course, Rachel being as stubborn as she was, followed closely behind.

"Well, we have to do something about them, Kurt! We need to inform the principal on this matter" She said in that high-pitched voice he was growing to hate. The question made him scoff, "You don't think I've tried that? Rachel, just…Leave it alone," the brunette replied firmly. The last thing Kurt saw before entering his home room was the pitiful look on Rachel's face.

He was tired.

The rest of the divas day went by quickly until it was time for glee club practice. He sat down in his usual seat at the back of the classroom as others began to swarm in. Rachel sat at the front of the classroom with Finn, already talking his ear off. Kurt couldn't hear what she was saying, but every now and then he heard the words "Solo", "Power couple", and "Destiny". Not a word had been brought up about the occurrences of that morning, and as thankful as he was, he was also disappointed. Was it a crime to secretly desire the help of others?

At that moment, the late bell rang and Mr. Shue had burst into the classroom with that same peppy grin he'd always won. Mr. Shue was, in short, a hypocritical person who had no idea how to teach a glee club. He was always preaching about us all being one big family, but that was a lie. Any of them would have turned on the other within seconds if the price was high.

Time went on. The brunette must have been caught up in his mind for a while, because before he even knew it they were all being dismissed. He hadn't been acknowledged even once, and he was completely fine with that. He was used to it.

The glasz-eyed boy took his time to leave the room, grabbing his satchel and swinging it over his shoulder as he lazily made his way out of that classroom that, just like most things he used to admire, seemed dull to him. As he walked through the hallways, he was met with a calm silence. The nearly inaudible echoes of his footsteps rang throughout the vacant hallway. The silence gave him time to think, which he loathed.

It got Kurt thinking about his life, though. For years, he had been the jocks' personal punching bag. He went on day-to-day enduring the pain that came with being an openly gay high schooler. About a month ago, he had researched a bunch of articles on bullying. All of the teens he read about had, at one point, claimed to have some breakdown. When would he finally reach his breaking point? Would he notice it happening? Maybe he wouldn't have one at all. His life could have been worse.

Just as he was turning the hall, he began to hear these faint noises. His footsteps, and every move he made, became cautious.

Kurt stopped in his tracks once he completely turned the corner. Right there before his poor innocent eyes, Puck and Quinn were sucking each other's faces off against the locker. She had her legs wrapped around his waist as he pushed forward. He quickly fastened his pace and exited the school building, clutching the strap of his satchel awkwardly. He always hated public affection. It was distasteful, and reminded him that he was an excruciatingly single hopeless romantic.

The brunette picked his head up. Moping about something as stupid as a boyfriend wasn't worth it. He glanced around at the few other cars parked near his. Kurt's clearly stuck out among the others because of the model, and how shiny it was. The thought caused a small smile to form on his face.

As he neared he car, he noticed something.

Footsteps.

The footsteps were faint. There was more than one person. As terrified as he was, he looked back.

Three football players.

They were all walking in the same direction as Kurt. He recognized most of them. Karofsky, Azimio, and some guy with muscles bigger than his face. He started walking faster while trying to seem casual, both of his hands squeezing his satchel as if it were his lifeline. His fingers were turning blue from the tight grip.

"What's the hurry, Hummel? Sale at the mall?" Karofsky called out from behind him in an annoyingly thick voice. The brunette decided not to reply. He was too focused on putting one foot in front of the other, and reminding himself how to breathe instead. He could hear them all getting closer. His car wasn't too far away. All he had to do was get inside and lock all of the doors. Then, he'd be safe,

Kurt broke out into a sprint, letting go of his satchel completely. At the same time, he heard the jocks behind him begin to run as well.

He was _so_ close.

The car was right in front of him. The boy's right hand touched the trunk of the black car, and before he could even take in another breath, one of the jocks, Azimio, had grabbed the collar of his shirt and thrown him to the side. He lost his footing and fell to the ground, letting out a loud grunt as his head hit the tire of the car parked beside his own. As quick as he could, he began to get up.

A kick to his stomach brought him right back down. His hands shook beside him, and he had lost the energy to get up. His head felt like it had been filled with static. He let out a loud cry as Karofsky stepped down on his chest, his feet flailing as he squeezed his eyes shut tightly. He couldn't look at them. Before he knew it, they were all coming at him at once.

His cheeks were wet with tears as he wailed, his eyes becoming more sore by the second. Azimio kicked the side of his head when he started to get too loud. Kurt didn't know who did it because his eyes were closed, but it quieted him down. A frustrated cry escaped his lips as he was turned onto his side from the force of another kick.

Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, he was grabbed by a pair of big, sweaty hands. He opened his eyes wide with surprise only to see that it was Karofsky. He let out a shaky breath, mixed with a sob as he was held up and pushed against the pick-up truck beside his car. The jock leaned in closely, until their faces were a mere inch apart, and he whispered, "Better run to the mall before that sale ends, fag." His breath had smelled terrible, rotten even.

The jock had thrown the glasz-eyed boy right back down to the ground. They left him there bleeding. It turned out that he had two cracked ribs. That was found that out after he had gotten up after an hour or two and driven himself to the hospital. He could barely stand. Every step he took towards the front door of the ER sent a jolt of pain throughout his entire body, but he did it because he had no other choice. When asked, he told the doctor that it was an accident. Nobody was to blame. When his dad came to the hospital, panicking, later on that day, he told him the same exact thing. Burt didn't believe him, but he didn't press the matter either.

He was exhausted.

He didn't want to be alive anymore.

He couldn't handle knowing that what happened had a good chance of happening again, and maybe more often. He couldn't handle the paranoia that came along with the thought, or the fear that came along with high school.

The diva was officially just another suicidal teen.

He couldn't handle anything, so he changed everything. He dyed his coiffed hair magenta and he changed his wardrobe. If someone examined his closet, it seemed as though all of the color had been drained from it.

The skanks accepted him without much of a battle. They didn't have many people, anyway. He also quit glee club without any notice, with the thought that nobody would care much.

Kurt had obviously been wrong about that.

Days after Mr. Shue had given the entire glee club notice that Kurt had apparently quit, Rachel went on a rampage. The club was down to eleven people, and were unable to qualify for regionals coming up. Since then, drastic attempts had been made to try and recruit Kurt, and Rachel Berry had held a grudge ever since.

* * *

><p><em>Oh, did I mention…during those "drastic attempts" to recruit me, I lost the big-v? Voluntarily, yeah, but that's another story. I guess you'll find out later. <em>


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